Morgan was having trouble quieting the rolling motion of his stomach.
If what Megan said was true, Hotch was a captive audience to his own humiliation, his own emotional evisceration and display. Leaning forward as far as his bonds would allow, Derek closed his eyes, trying to regain some measure of control.
"Morgan, it's okay. If anyone would understand, it'd be Hotch." Prentiss's gentle voice aimed to soothe, but it had an underlying tone of discomfort. Her boss, lying so still with his trousers gaping, was listening.
A tinkling giggle made Derek look up, bitter outrage in every line of his features. Megan was enjoying herself immensely. Sipping wine, she regarded the agent over the rim of her glass, eyes sparkling with malicious glee.
"Awww, Sugar…you worry too much," she drawled. "If Aaron can hear you, and if he's such a good man, why…he'd forgive you, don't you think?"
"If?" Morgan grabbed onto the tiny ray of hope even as his anger ratcheted up a few notches. "Wha'd'you mean 'if'? Can he hear us or not?"
With a bored sigh, the unsub lifted one shoulder in a languid gesture of indifference. "Does it really matter? None of you can do anything about it." She ran her tongue along the edge of the champagne flute, eyeing her captives through lids at sultry half-mast. "But now that you've dipped your toe in the water, you might as well take the plunge. What other secrets does Aaron have?"
Prentiss didn't like the way this murderess of men was fixating on Morgan. It was best to keep men at the perimeter of her perception, not center stage. If that was even possible. Derek could too easily become another number in the body count simply because of his gender. Hotch was already a helpless target, but Emily's feminine sensibilities detected a softer quality in Megan's interest in the Unit Chief. Maybe she's attracted to him in spite of herself?
Regardless, Prentiss would rather be safe than sorry. She tried to shift the focus back to herself.
"He doesn't have secrets so much as he's a private man. He doesn't go blatting his personal life for anyone to hear because he's a little introverted. Not because he's trying to hide anything."
"Oh?..." Megan's laugh was amused disbelief. "Oh, really? A man without secrets?"
"A man who keeps to himself. A man who doesn't lie easily. A man who'd rather say nothing than use dishonesty as a shield. A good man!"
"Mmmmm…So you keep saying." The unsub flipped her photo album closed and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Sighing, she rested her head on the pillow next to Hotch's, studying his profile. Her lids drooped, looking heavy. "He sure is pretty, though. You hear me, Aaron? You're a nice, long hunk o' handsome."
Emily shot Derek a sidelong glance. Maybe the wine was beginning to have an effect.
They could only hope.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Nothing? Really?"
Reid's agitation was plain to hear in his voice as he, Rossi and J.J. clustered around the speakerphone that had Garcia on the other end.
"I know! I'm sorry! I'll keep trying, but there's no identifiable paper trail, and there are so many layers of titles and deeds and receipts, and we don't know which names are connected to the unsub, and we don't even know her name, and the lawyers are circling the wagons, and…and…and…" The tech analyst's distress was palpable.
"We understand, Kitten," Rossi interjected. "Just…keep digging."
"I'll never stop…" The connection closed on Garcia's sob.
Dave turned to look at the worried faces of his colleagues. "You know who we need for this kind of thing?" Said with wry, mirthless humor.
"Hotch." J.J. rubbed a weary hand over her face. "He was a federal prosecutor. He'd know how to cut through all that legal shit without even breaking a sweat."
It had been nearly 24 hours since they'd lost contact with the rest of their team. As each minute clicked by, the chances of recovering their co-workers…their friends…alive and unharmed, became slimmer.
"I have never run into a legal system like this before." J.J. crossed her arms, hugging herself in a quest for comfort. "A couple dozen super-rich business moguls run everything. They're invincible because we can't even find out who they are!"
"You have run into this before," Rossi sighed. "The uber-rich everywhere can pull stunts like this. They usually don't. But it's always there; an invisible, low-profile power structure."
"What kills me is that this unsub is preying on them. They're the ones she's cutting down. You'd think they'd want her stopped." Reid sounded as bitter as he was baffled.
"To some people, loss of reputation…which could translate into loss of income…is a fate worse than death. They'd rather take their chances with being murdered, as long as their cadre of legal beagles will clean it up and keep their memories and legacies intact and fit for public consumption."
J.J. shook her head, huffing out a derisive sound. "That's their immortality. Their money. Their business. They'll risk dying for it as long as, in the end, it lives on. Sick."
Rossi sighed. "Yeah…well. Different strokes for different folks."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Megan stroked Hotch through the thin fabric of his boxers.
Eyes bleary from alcohol, what few inhibitions she might have had were falling by the wayside.
"Please don't do that to him." Morgan couldn't stand the thought of Bossman being fondled…molested… Especially if he knew it was happening. Trapped inside his own body. Helpless.
"Why not?" The unsub's voice slurred. " 'F Aaron and I have so much 'n common, why shouldn' we be t'geth'r?"
Prentiss's teeth gritted as Megan's hand became more insistent, more rhythmic. She cut through the woman's champagne-fueled haze. "Because, like we said: he's a good man. You two may share some things from your pasts, but what you've made of yourselves couldn't be more different." She spit the words in an effort to distract the woman "Get it? He's gooooood. And you're a piece of shit."
The strategy worked.
But not in the way Prentiss expected.